


Plumes Noires et Cygne Blanc

by bzarcher



Series: Rising Swan (The Odette AU) [11]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Chronal Accelerator Malfunction, Chronal Disassociation, Crossing Parallels, F/F, Odette!AU, Odile!AU, Parallel Universes, Post-Talon!Widowmaker, Reprogrammed!Widowmaker, Slipstream - Freeform, Talon!Tracer, Widowtracer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9152794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: After a long journey, Odette Lacroix has learned who she wants to be - but the Talon agent known as Slipstream might have other ideas about that.Lena "Tracer" Oxton has to find her way home, but the nightmare she's faced with may not allow her to go.





	1. Widening Gyre

It starts in two places at once.

 

D.Va gasped as the blast from Reaper’s shotgun blew through an already damaged power feed, filling her cockpit with alarms. “Guys, I’m going down! Ejecting!”

“Watch it, Hana, he’s closing!”

Lena Oxton – better known as Tracer – leapt forward as her young friend flew through the air. “Tracer to Pharah – I’ll cover her! Can you get that bastard off us?”

The Egyptian woman’s voice was tight with concentration over the comms. - _Incoming! Five seconds!_

Lena watched as the Korean girl landed badly, rolling on the broken street, and saw the shadows moving to pursue her. “Too long! I’m going in!”

_-Lena, WAIT!_

The blink put her between the mech pilot and the mercenary just as his finger tightened on the trigger. “ **DIE!** ”

* * *

In another reality, Soldier: 76, better known as Jack Morrison, fell to the ground in a filthy alleyway, his rifle landing just out of his reach.

“Aw, that’s a hard break, innit?” Slipstream, the Talon agent who had once been Lena Oxton, smiled cruelly as she spun one of her pulse pistols around her fingertips. “First my lovely gets your hamstring with that shot, then you drop that gun of yours? Bad day at the office.”

“Tracer – Lena – you don’t have to do this. You’re better than this!” The former Overwatch commander tried to stand, and his injured leg buckled under his weight.

“Oh, really?” Slipstream’s mouth turned up in a mocking smile. “Funny that you’re the judge of that. Do you remember a little memo you sent Winston, once?”

Jack flinched beneath his mask, but tried to play for ignorance. “I wrote a lot of memos back then. You’d need to be more specific.”

Slipstream snorted. “See if this jogs your memory: _The costs in both the loss of the Slipstream fighter prototype and the fruitless attempts to retrieve its pilot have risen to where we cannot justify them. I know she was your friend, Winston, but if this latest scheme fails, I have to ask you to let it go._ ” Her mocking impression of his voice was salt in old, old  wounds.

Jack shook his head. “Part of being a commander is accepting that you lose people, Lena.”

“Good news, mate – you did. Lena’s gone. But I think she’ll appreciate me giving you what’s coming to ya.” Kicking his rifle a little further down the alleyway, the Talon assassin lined her pistol up squarely with his visor. “Maybe you can apologize when you see her in Hell.”

There was a rustle of wind behind him, and Jack laughed softly.

“Not exactly the reaction I was expecting,” Slipstream admitted, her eyes narrowing beneath her red goggles, “mind sharing what’s so funny?

Jack looked up to her, making eye contact as best as he could. “You may not be Tracer anymore, or even Lena. But one thing’s still true. You don’t look before you leap.”

Inky black smoke rose from the former Strike Commander’s shadow, solidifying into a robed figure in dark blue, his shotgun drawn and leveled squarely at the glowing target at the center of Slipstream’s chest.

As Slipstream’s eyes widened, Reaper’s voice echoed through the alleyway. “ **I don’t usually do mercy killings – but for you, I’m making an exception.** ”

 

_The shotgun roared._

 

What happened next should have been impossible. For all the millions of Tracers or Slipstreams in their potential timelines (and billions more who were just Lena, or Linus, or someone else entirely), the odds of both attempting to pull themselves backwards in the Slipstream at exactly the same moment was virtually nil. Add that both had perfectly matching damage to their Accelerator from the same weapon in the same space of time…they could have repeated the moment a trillion more times and never synchronized everything so perfectly again.

Despite that, the moment came, and both women screamed in agony as the fabric of reality warped around them, and _exploded_.

 

When Lena woke up, the first thing she realized was she was laying on wet cobblestones. Which was odd because she’d been fighting on dry concrete.

“– you hear me, _chérie?_ ” Odette’s voice? She hadn’t been on the battlefield, she’d been in Gibraltar. The voice wasn’t coming out of her earpiece, either. Sounded like her lover was just behind her, actually. How long had she been out?

“Ugh. Sorry, luv, did anyone catch the number of that bus?” Slowly putting her hands under her, she pushed her self over, looking up at a clouded sky, a few drops of rain spattering on the orange shatterproof material of her goggles, while sparks and smoke rose from the housing of her accelerator. “I feel like I just fell through the…world…?”

The woman standing over her, wearing a black combat suit and a black and green recon visor, had the same ivory pale complexion as Odette.

She had the same kissable lips. The same concerned frown when she’d realized Lena had probably done something very stupid.

But the rifle in her hands made it clear she was not Odette – and so did the Talon emblems emblazoned on her suit. “You are _not_ her…” The rifle was up and trained at Lena’s chest in a heartbeat, the not-Odette’s voice turning sharp. _“Où est-elle?”_

Lena’s eyes went wide, her heart hammering against her ribs with the sudden spike of adrenaline. _I don’t know, luv, but I think we’re_ both _fucked._

* * *

When Hana pulled herself up from behind the fallen chunk of her mech that she’d used to take cover from…whatever that was, the first thing she noticed was that Reaper was gone.

The second was that the woman lying in the street a few feet away wasn’t Tracer.

She had Tracer’s chestnut brown hair, but the cut was rougher, the spikes a bit more severe. She was dressed in a red trimmed black uniform of some kind, rather than Tracer’s bomber jacket and tights, and as Hana approached she realized with a shock that there was a Talon insignia sewn onto this woman’s shoulder.

Hana tapped her comm earbud, hoping the explosions hadn’t fried it. “D.Va to Pharah – can you read me?”

_-Pharah here. Are you OK? What was that blast? I heard…well, it sounded almost like a scream._

“Yeah…I’m OK – no sign of Reaper. But we have another problem.”

_-Is Lena all right?_

Hana knew Fareeha couldn’t see her, but she shook her head anyway. “I don’t know. It’s…you had better get down here. I can’t really explain it over the phone, but something is _really_ wrong.”

_-On my way._

Kneeling a few feet from Not-Tracer, Hana pulled her Light Gun from the holster at her jumpsuit’s hip and took careful aim to cover the prone woman before speaking again. “Hey! You alive?”

“Uhhngn,” the Not-Tracer groaned, slowly rising to her hands and knees and shaking her head as if to clear it. “Odile? Luv, did you see what the _fuck_ that was?” As sparks spat from her version of the Chronal Accelerator and danced across the pavement, Not-Tracer put a hand to her ear, obviously trying to check a comm of her own. “C’mon, beautiful, don’t leave me hanging…” The Not-Tracer’s voice started to rise in pitch, an edge of panic in her words. “Slipstream to Odile – _come in!_ I need to hear you, pet! Please! I need…”

‘Slipstream’ trailed off, and her head shot up as she saw the long shadow Hana was casting in the afternoon sun. Staring up at her eyes filled with what Hana could only describe as ‘pure raging crazy’ through dark red goggles, the shorter woman let out a guttural growl that made the hairs at the back of Hana’s neck stand straight up.

“Fucking _Hana Song_ ,” Slipstream snarled, “how many times do I have to break that clanker of yours before you _die?_ ”

Hana’s eyes narrowed as she tightened her grip on her own pistol. “Babe, I have no idea who you are, but you had better be able to tell me where Tracer is.”

It became clear that had been the absolutely wrong thing to say when ‘Slipstream’ lunged forward before Hana could pull the trigger, batting the Light Gun away in an act of surprising strength before slamming them to the ground and straddling Hana’s hips, punctuating her next words with blows to the Mech pilot’s less protected midsection. “TRACER _. IS. **DEAD.**_ _Get it through your head!_ ”

Wrapping a hand around the armored gorget of the Korean's bodysuit, Slipstream pulled her up off the pavement by the neck, her eyes blazing. “You have exactly two seconds to tell me where my swan is, or I swear to God I will finish the job with _my bare fucking hands_.”

Before Hana could even try to respond, a dark blue armored hand clamped down on Slipstream’s forearm, breaking her grip on the younger woman's throat before lifting the doppelganger into the air by her arm, drawing a scream of pain from Slipstream as her shoulder dislocated under the weight of her own body.

“I don’t think so,” Pharah announced flatly, then laid the Talon agent out with a Raptora boosted right cross.

* * *

There was a certain sense of _déjà vu_ in being dragged off the battlefield by a combat suited Talon assassin. With her accelerator damaged and still feeling as if she’d been run over, Lena didn’t have much to offer in the way of resistance. Besides, even if she had been of a mind to run, who knew what kind of havoc trying to use her accelerator would cause right now?

Lena allowed Not-Odette (she really needed to learn her _name_ ) to zip them across rooftops until she’d brought them to a fairly plain looking apartment that screamed ‘Safehouse’ to Lena’s mind.

“I need to report,” the sniper noted as they entered the apartment’s living room, “our Controller will be expecting Slipstream to be on the call with me.”

“That’s a problem,” Lena scoffed, “unless you’d care to tell them I’m in the loo.”

Not-Odette fixed her with a withering look. “Take off your harness, the jacket, and your top. Leave the underwear. Do not speak unless spoken to.”

Lena flinched. “Look, I realize that you’re used to someone different, but…”

The Talon agent turned, her golden eyes flashing. “Do you wish to die? Because if Talon realizes you are not Slipstream, I assure you that they will be happy to oblige you.”

Lena winced. _That’s a pretty good point. Doubt Talon would be very interested in helping me get home._

Disrobing as quickly as she could with a muttered ‘Shit’ under her breath, Lena pulled her goggles off and tossed them on top of her jacket. “Do I need to muss up my hair or anything?”

Not-Odette considered that. “It is good enough. Though,” her tongue slid over her lips for a moment, her eyes just a bit feral, “I suppose I could make it a bit more…authentic.” Lena knew that look. Usually it was quite exciting to see, but now it made a shiver run up her spine for a very different reason.

“No offense, luv, but I’m not who _you_ want, and you’re not who _I_ want. Leave it.”

The Talon sniper rolled her eyes. “If you insist, _chérie._ ” When Lena pulled off the shirt she’d had on under the jacket, the sniper’s expression turned to one of surprise as she reached out to gently trace her fingertips over the tattoo that ran across Lena’s shoulder and bicep. “What is this? _She_ doesn’t have this.”

Lena blinked. “No? I got it done by the same artist that did the work on your back. Umm – if you have the same work on your back.”

The Talon agent seemed to shrink back slightly. “I…remember blue hair. A woman who was excited about the tattoo. But it was just before we were…reconditioned.”

 _That explains a few things_. Lena considered what to say, then had an idea. “First aid kits – got one? Compression bandage? Make it look like an injury?”

“Yes – _attends ici_.” When the taller woman returned, it took several minutes to wrap the shoulder and Lena’s forearm, finishing with a nod of satisfaction. “That should be well enough.”

Standing, the sniper walked to a wall and opened a false panel, then activated a video comm display that had been revealed as the panel slipped away. Connection and handshake data ran across the screen for a moment, and the Talon logo blipped up for a few seconds before being replaced with what appeared to be a man seated at a table, lit from behind to conceal his features.

“Agent Odile. Agent Slipstream. Report.”

 _So that’s her name._ Lena crossed her arms over her chest, then tried to give a properly disrespectful baddie sort of look at Odile. “Well, go on, then.”

The sniper reached out to lightly kick her in the ankle, making Lena wince. “Oi! Easy! Had a bit of a day!”

“ _Agents_ ,” the Talon controller growled, “focus, or be disciplined.”

Odile straightened. “Sir. ‘Solider: 76’ was wounded and disabled after being isolated, but we failed to complete the kill.”

 _Oh, shit._ Lena did her best to keep her expression somewhere between neutral and bored, but her mind raced. So apparently ‘Odile’ and ’Slipstream’ weren’t just Talon, they were specifically out to kill Overwatch agents. Great.

The controller’s voice was like icy granite, and Lena noticed his hand approach a small box sitting just in the view of the camera with two lighted red buttons on it. “Explain the reason for your failures.”

“Reaper,” Odile spoke, her voice thickening with distaste, “has apparently thrown his lot in with his former colleagues. He ambushed Slipstream and caused a significant injury before she could reverse the worst of the damage. Morrison then detonated a grenade at close range to cover their escape.”

The Talon controller was silent for a moment, then nodded, his hand moving away from the box. “Very well. Intel will be apprised of the mercenary’s new affiliation. Add him to priority target listings. Stand down and await further instructions.”

Odile moved to salute and Lena mirrored her, despite the way it made her want to throw up. Then, before the connection cut, the taller woman turned and grabbed her, kissing her possessively as Lena’s eyes widened.

“They will expect this,” Odile murmured as she disengaged for a heartbeat, too low to be picked up, “play along.”

Lena returned the kiss – she didn’t quite kiss like Odette but it didn’t feel half bad either, part of her had to admit – breathing a sigh of relief as the connection was closed and the taller woman disengaged.

“Thanks for the warning.” Lena collected her clothes with a snarl, walking to a small armchair that sat to the side of the couch. Removing the bandage and pulling her t-shirt back on, she winced as she looked at the well and truly buggered Accelerator. “God, this is trashed. No wonder it went all to hell. You said Reaper shot her? Me? The other me.”

Odile nodded. “Point blank – when he appeared, I didn’t have a shot because of the angle.” She shivered slightly. “The way she screamed, after…” The sniper shook her head. “I was afraid she would be dead. Not… _gone_.”

“If I survived,” Lena tried to sound as reassuring as she could, “then I think she did too. Can I ask a question that you may not like?”

Odile cocked her head slightly. “Go on.”

“Is Winston alive? Here, I mean.”

“He’s lower on our priority list, and he was never a target of opportunity. He went to ground almost as soon as Slipstream and I were deployed.”

Lena winced at the casual discussion of how ‘she’ had taken part in killing her friends. “Right. OK, then. Finding him has to be our first priority – he’s the only person who knows every inside and out of how the slipstream and my accelerator work. If anyone can figure out how to fix this, it’s him. Can we get away with that?”

Odile nodded thoughtfully. “If no other Overwatch operatives break cover…we’ll have some flexibility. I think we can pursue him.” The sniper paused, then looked back to Lena. “I can inform Talon that we will be working on reviewing some old leads. It will be accepted – we have done it before. It will allow us to move without suspicion.”

Lena raised an eyebrow. “You’ll lie to Talon? Well, more than you already have?”

The intensity in the sniper’s golden eyes reminded Lena of the days when Widowmaker wanted nothing more than to put a bullet between her eyes. “I do not care about Talon. I care about _her_. You are _not_ her, but you _are_ the only way I will get her back. I will do whatever I must to accomplish that.”

“Right,” Lena tried to offer as confident a smile as she could, “first priority, then. Find Winston and he’ll hopefully be able to figure out what caused this.” She gestured to the broken accelerator before looking out the window. “And then a way to get me home, and get yours back to you.”

There was no reply for a long moment. Longer than Lena thought made sense for the assassin to be thinking the plan over. Lena looked back to the couch, and realized that Odile’s shoulders were shaking slightly. “Hey. What's going on? Are you all right?”

“I'm not,” the Talon agent murmured, barely able to meet the lost time traveler’s eye, “I miss her. I _need_ you. Her. Slipstream.” The sniper took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “We need each other. We always needed each other, but after Talon did their work…she’s the way I find myself. Without her, I feel…pieces…shift. Myself. Widowmaker. Odette. Maybe even some last fragments of Amélie, that Talon never quite wiped away. Spinning in my head… _Je casse._ Without her to remind me, I forget who I am supposed to be.”

Lena felt a wave of sympathy rise in her as the assassin spoke. _There but for the grace of God_ …

“I'm sorry,” she finally said, “If it helps, I miss my Odette something fierce right now.”

Odile shrugged. “Somewhat.” She paused. “I don’t remember Odette very well. I think the memories were too fresh, when Talon took us. Was she … _is_ she happy, your Odette?”

“Right now she’s probably pacing up a storm in Winston's lab,” Lena admitted, “but…yeah. She is. We are.”

“It’s good you have each other. I know what you must think of us, but I’m glad that you can be together. We were forced to earn that right.”

“By killing people.”

Odile shrugged. “People die every day, Lena. What we do doesn’t change that. Maybe they’d live a longer life. Perhaps not – despite what Angela claims, few heroes live to an old age. But they would still die, in the end.”

Lena didn’t have an answer to that, really. 

“Does she fight alongside you?”

Lena shook her head. “She puts her energy into creating things, these days. She has a garden. She would have started it…before. Do you remember?”

Odile looked away. “I’m not sure. I remember vegetables? Standing in what must have been a kitchen. Washing them.”

“She likes to grow them. Flowers, too.” Lena smiled, despite herself. “She really loves cooking with her own veg. Makes her feel accomplished. It's all pretty good, but she takes a lot of pride in those meals.”

Odile seemed to think about that, staring off through the apartment’s walls. “Slipstream likes to cook for us.”

Lena’s eyebrows raised. She’d been assured by experts that she was useless for much beyond a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Yeah? Any good?”

Odile smiled, genuinely smiled, and Lena felt her heart clench. She knew that smile so well. A little piece of her love, a beam of light in this dark reflection as she offered a little shrug. “Some things. She nearly burned down the kitchen trying to make a dessert, once. I teased her about it for a month.”

Lena snorted. “Remind me not to try that, then. Way my luck’s running today, I’d torch the whole bloody flat.”

Odile laughed for a moment, then looked away again, her face twisting with pain. “How can you be so much alike and not be _her_?”

Lena shrugged. “Parallel dimensions. Quantum whotzits. Winston probably has a whole lecture. Asked him once about where I go when I disappear and I got lost before he’d filled half a blackboard.”

Odile sighed at the mention of the gorilla. “Do you truly think that if we find him, he would help us? After all that we've…that I have done?”

“I have to think so,” Lena admitted, “and I don’t see a better shot at fixing this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Nox!](http://for-general-madness.tumblr.com)


	2. Standing In The World You Didn't Make

Odette didn’t like the holding cells. They reminded her far too much of when she’d initially arrived at Gibraltar in Overwatch custody. Desperate to understand what Lena had done to her, trying to learn how to feel, the only person who truly trusted her the one woman she wasn't allowed to see without someone else there to ‘supervise’. 

But the occupant of holding cell A – who was not Lena, no matter how much they looked alike – would only allow herself to be examined if Odette was present. Would not talk to Winston, Fareeha, or Morrison unless Odette sat in on her interrogations, even if she didn’t speak.

Would not – could not – sleep unless she knew Odette was nearby. 

She understood where this twisted copy’s fears came from. She’d lived through so much of the same, after all. 

So no matter how much she hated being here, she asked Angela for a cot, and slept where she would be in clear view of the single occupied cell. 

“You sleep differently than she does.”

The filtered sound of ‘Slipstream’s’ voice coming through the cell’s intercom surprised her. Most of the unsolicited comments the woman from another reality offered had been threats of violence, or lewd suggestions that Lena might – very rarely – have voiced to her in the bedroom or bath, but not in public, and certainly not in front of any of their friends and colleagues.

It was if Talon had removed every shred of restraint or modesty in this woman before setting her loose on the world. A creature of id and hunger. Odette wondered how her counterpart managed to keep her on task for _anything_ outside of the bedroom. Did ‘Odile’ simply allow her to run rampant, and accomplish her goals amid the chaos with the kind of cool precision Talon had once crafted her for? Or was Odile just as impulsive and insane, getting results by sheer mayhem? Trying to imagine the ways Talon might have twisted her mind once again was a sickening exercise, and she never wished to think about the black swan for longer than absolutely necessary.

Sitting up to face the cell, Odette realized she hadn’t responded to what the Talon agent had said. Slipstream was looking more thoughtful than manic, arms hanging loosely at the sides of her orange prison uniform as she leaned against the wall.

Cautiously, Odette decided to see where Slipstream’s observation might lead. “How am I different?”

“You’ve been laying on your side. Peaceful. Odile sleeps on her back most of the time, flops her arms around like a starfish. Steals the blankets.” Slipstream laughed quietly, with a smile so much like Lena’s that it made her want to scream, the assassin’s voice mixing that amusement with an undercurrent of longing. “She never admits she's cold.”

Odette nodded, her voice thoughtful. “If she has the same …modifications …I underwent, she probably is.”

“I try to keep close, keep her warm,” Slipstream admitted, “but some nights she just wants to wrap herself up and I leave her be.”

She couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice at that admission. “That's more considerate of you than I expected.”

Confusion was written all over Slipstream’s face, and the knife that had been slipped into Odette’s heart the moment she’d learned that this doppelgänger had replaced Lena twisted insider of her again. “Why wouldn't I be? I’m the same as your Lena. Or I was, at least. You’re her. Or she was you, I guess, depending how you look at it. I love her. I’d do anything for her.” Slipstream’s voice seemed genuinely concerned as she put a hand to the door of her cell. “Doesn't yours…?”

Odette's eyes narrowed dangerously as she rose to her feet. “Do _not_ finish that question. You are not her. She would never be…what you have become. You have no idea what she is or isn’t.”

Slipstream laughed bitterly. “Don’t be so sure, gorgeous. I see so many possibilities, when I’m There. Between now and then. If I’m jumping or when I get punished by having my anchor cut.” Odette's stomach lurched at how casually this version of Lena admitted to being tortured. 

“I can’t count how many versions of me I’ve seen out there…how many had one little thing changed, and how different each one is. Some better. Some worse. But I’m far from the only one who ended up as a baddie. Me and your ‘Tracer’,” she spat the codename with unveiled disgust, “we’re more alike than you think.”

Odette turned away, unable to look “Slipstream” in the eye. 

The Talon agent’s voice wasn’t exactly kind, when she spoke again, but it no longer held the venom that had dripped from her words. “You never answered my question: Doesn’t she love you, your Lena?”

Odette swallowed, trying to clear the brick that felt lodged in her throat. “ _Oui._ More than anything.”

Slipstream’s voice grew soft. “I’ve no idea if she sees what I do. I don’t think I used to see the flashes and jumps so clearly before Talon modified all my kit. But I can always see you. See _us_. So many versions. Like each can't exist without the other.”

Odette wouldn’t let herself turn around. Didn’t dare to meet the other woman’s eyes. “I found reasons to live. Not just her – a life of my own. I had to.”

“But you’d never want to, would you? I wouldn’t. Odile wouldn’t. I’ll bet she doesn’t, either.”

Odette drew her arms across her body, but it did nothing to warm the chill she felt inside of her. “I will tell Winston what you said, about…seeing alternatives. He’s been analyzing your equipment. Perhaps that information will help him determine a way to get you where you belong.” _And bring the REAL Lena back to me._

She heard footsteps, and when Odette finally turned around, the doppelgänger was laying back down on the bunk set into the back of her cell. “She'll be trying to do the same, I think. Your Lena, I mean. We never caught up to the Big Guy. Talon wanted us to focus on the more dedicated combatants first.”

“And did you?”

“Yup.” Slipstream popped the last consonant, her hands behind her head. “Success brought rewards. Failure brought being _unstuck_ while they put _her_ in constant agony, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. What would you have done in my place?”

They both knew the answer to that. 

Odette tried to redirect the conversation one last time, rather than let that terrible silence last any longer than necessary. “Do you think my Lena and your Odile will find him? The Winston of your world?”

Slipstream’s voice was absolutely certain. “I would go starkers through a blizzard to get back to her if I thought there was the slightest chance it would work. They’ll find him.”

Odette had to admit she had a point. Still… “If you have been so diligent in killing his friends, do you believe he would help Odile?”

Slipstream shrugged against the bunk. “It’s not her he’d be helping, right? And if your Lena is anything like me…” Slipstream lifted her head slightly so Odette could see her smirk. “I’m nothing if not persistent.”

Despite herself, Odette laughed softly as she conceded that point.

* * *

“Every possible reality,” Winston explained as Odette walked to his workstation, “has what you might call a resonant frequency. A signature. It’s something I discovered early on when designing the original _Slipstream_ drive system, and that was the key to finding and retrieving Lena when she was originally disassociated from our timeline.”

Tapping a series of commands into his keyboard, a graphic came up.

**HOME FREQUENCY: 10494.49** **millicurtisses** **  
** **TEST OBJECT FREQUENCY: 2288.51 millicurtisses**

“The test object being the Accelerator that Slipstream was wearing?” 

“Correct – a piece of it, anyway. Some of the housing that was too damaged to mend. So, now we know where to look – and in the case of OUR Lena, we know what to look _for_ when we get there. But the trick is figuring out how we’re going to pull her back while simultaneously pushing Slipstream back into her own reality…and making sure that they both survive the process.” 

Odette hummed thoughtfully, then remembered her earlier conversation. “When I spoke to Slipstream earlier, she said that she sees alternate realities when she moves back and forth through time – more than she remembers seeing when she was that reality’s version of Tracer.” 

Winston huffed a dark laugh. “Given how many of the safety and compensation measures in my design Talon stripped out of their version of the accelerator, I’m not entirely surprised. Unfortunately, it also likely means that we’ll need to repair her equipment as closely as possible to Talon’s specifications rather than my own – that ‘looseness’ between realities may be a key to the problem.” 

Odette nodded. “Slipstream said that you are still alive in her reality. She believes that Lena and ‘Odile’ will try to find their version of you.” 

Winston grunted thoughtfully, tapping a broad finger against his chin. “I honestly am not sure if that will help or hurt – but I will try to keep it in mind.”

* * *

Odile had scoffed at Lena’s suggestion to check out Gibraltar, but she knew Winston. He’d managed to batten down and hide away there for almost a decade, before. The fact that Talon was after him didn’t change things very much.

Lena hadn’t really been prepared how painful it had been to search the ruined Watchpoint, though. Someone had obviously tossed the place and left a great deal damaged above ground, but Winston’s lab built into the natural caves and the subbasements appeared untouched, aside from a lack of power, thank god. She’d been just about to call out for the scientist when a black armored _shape_ had dropped from the ceiling to land in front of her with a heavy thud.

“Winston,” Lena gasped as she got a better look, “is that you…?”

The stress of watching one of his oldest friends twisted into a puppet for Talon, followed by the deaths of so many of those around him, had clearly taken a toll. Fur that was once dark and glossy had become dull and streaked with iron greys and silvers from stress and malnourishment. The lines of his face seemed more pronounced, and his posture had a distinct slump even as he aimed the snarling, snapping projector of his Tesla cannon square at her chest. “Give me a _reason_ not to pull this trigger.”

“I’m not who you think I am,” Lena immediately answered, “I’m not with Talon. There was an accident with my accelerator and somehow I switched places with the version of me that’s supposed to be here – or at least I hope that’s what happened, because then maybe you can get me back.”

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Winston’s face twisted with disgust. “Really? That’s the plot of a bad movie. Besides, the odds against it are so slim as to be unbelievable.”

“The world is not only stranger than we imagine, it’s stranger than we _can_ imagine,” Lena countered, “that was always one of your favorites, back when you were trying to perfect the anchor. Keep me solid.” Something in the gorilla’s eyes softened, and she charged on. “You let me know that Horizon never told you your birthday, so we picked October 23 rd because of Avogadro’s number. Angie kept making you try to eat cashew and almond butters and I’d sneak you a couple jars of your usual on the sly until she gave up. You like radish greens but hate the actual –”

“Radishes.” Winston interrupted, his voice starting to fill with something like awe. The tesla cannon’s muzzle drooped to point at the floor, the charge dissipating as the weapon went back into standby mode. Moving closer, he brought a finger up to gently trace the patterns of buckshot damage that Reaper’s shotgun blast had left in the accelerator’s housing. “Was it damaged like this when you tried to use it?”

“So you believe me?” Lena looked up into eyes that had gained a bit of their sparkle back.

“Let’s say I’m going to test your hypothesis,” Winston didn’t quite smile, “my sensors were still showing another intruder. Mind telling me if they’re with you?”

“She is,” Lena admitted, “but you won’t like her.”

She was right, he didn’t.

Odile looked tense and miserable as Winston slowly circled the Talon assassin, his cannon gripped in one hand but not ready to fire yet. “Assuming that ‘Lena’ is telling me the truth, what stops you and Slipstream from killing me the moment I bring her back? Taking me back to Talon as a trophy?”

“Talon doesn’t know I’m here,” Odile answered, her voice flat, “and I give you my word I will not disclose your location. I will take her and we will leave.”

“Not good enough,” Winston snarled, “your word is worth as far as I can throw you.”

Lena tried to think of something – anything – she could say that would be of use, but didn’t have much. It was pretty clear how much these versions of herself and Odette were hated. How much damage they’d done. In Winston’s shoes, she’d probably feel the same way.

Odile was quiet for a long moment, then looked Winston in the eye. “Because you’re not doing this for me, and I am not doing this for you.” Her gaze shifted over, and Lena felt uncomfortably like she was under a microscope. “We’re both doing this for her. She didn’t ask for this world.”

Winston considered that, then slung his cannon back over his shoulder. “No,” he admitted, “she didn’t.” Turning, he gestured for them to follow him deeper into the labs. “I’ll need a little time to get equipment together. First thing is going to be tearing down the accelerator so I can try to determine how much was damaged. If you did come from a parallel, Lena, I’ll need to repair as much of this as possible – keeping the original components may be key to getting you home.”

* * *

Over the course of a month, Odette developed a routine. Get up. Make breakfast. Take food to Winston. Check in on Slipstream in her cell. Make sure she eats. Find someone to box with, or take her increasing frustration out on the heavy and speed bags if no partner was available. (She tried to dance. She couldn’t dance. How could she dance, when her heart had been torn from her chest?) Shower. Eat lunch. Take lunch to Winston. Sit in his lab for much of the afternoon to give him a sounding board. Cook dinner. Bring food for herself and Slipstream down to the holding cells. Stay in the cells through the night.

Angela’s attempts to give Lena’s dark mirror some therapy had not been terribly successful, but she would finally speak to others without Odette being present. If she was pressed, Odette would admit that she felt a lot of sympathy for her charge. She didn’t love Slipstream, not the way she loved the real Lena, but…she could see the echoes of the person the Talon agent had been more and more frequently, and she knew all too well how Talon could twist and warp a person.

If they failed, Odette didn’t know if she could ever look at Slipstream without feeling a knife in her heart. But she thought she might at least be able to help her become something closer to a whole person again.

She owed her – and Lena – that much.

Odette was taking Winston a bowl of vegetable soup and noodles for lunch when there was a sudden cry from his lab that carried out into the hallway. **“ _Archimedes’ Principle!_ ”**

When she entered, Winston was frantically tapping on a keyboard with his feet, while his hands rapidly sketched equations on a pad of paper in front of him, muttering to himself. “It’s NOT the same but if we _treat_ it the same then the theory _works_ …”

“Winston?” Odette set the tray of food down at a side workstation, then moved to where the scientist would be able to see her, since he hadn’t reacted to her entrance. He seemed so consumed by his sudden inspiration that Odette wondered if he’d even realized he had spoken aloud. “Has something happened?”

“Maybe,” the gorilla replied absently as he continued to work, “possibly. I think…I think I may have something. Something big.” Looking up, his eyes flicked to the ceiling. “Athena? How fast can you run these projections?”

“Two hours for initial modeling, Winston.” The AI’s voice took on a slightly pointed note. “Plenty of time for you to _eat your lunch_.”

Odette had a strong suspicion about how long those models would actually take to run. Smiling as best as she could, she handed the scientist his soup.

“I suppose it does smell quite appetizing, Odette, thank you.” Winston shuffled over to one of his tire seats, perching on it and balancing the tray on his lap before taking a few spoonfuls of soup. “Very nice. Did you use vegetables from your garden?”

“I appreciate that you can tell,” Odette admitted as she took a seat of her own, “the tomatoes, carrots, and zucchini are from _our_ garden.” She put the slight emphasis on the word – she might not fight as a member of Overwatch, but she very much felt she was part of the family, at this point. “Anyone is welcome to plant and work there.”

“True,” Winston admitted with a tired smile, “but aside from Bastion, nobody else has the same touch.”

“ _Merci_.” Odette let him finish his soup and start to peel the banana she’d placed on the tray before asking the question that had been burning in her mind since the scientist’s excited shout. “So – Archimedes’ Principle?”

“Huh?” Winston blinked, returning from where he’d been lost in thought, and nodded. “Yes. Right. The basic version is that when you place an object in water, that object displaces the water around it as it enters. If the weight of the water displaced is greater than the object, it will sink. If the water displaced is less, it floats.”

“I think I understand that,” Odette said thoughtfully after she’d considered that explanation, “but I’m confused how that connects with Lena.”

“Ah, well,” Winston stood and loped over to a sink he’d installed in his lab, back when it had become his living quarters. “Could you find me a glass, please?”

Odette finally settled on a clear flask, marked with measurements along the tube, then handed it to the scientist as he began to fill the basin with water. “Yes, perfect, thank you.”

Rummaging in the adjacent desk, Winston made a sound of satisfaction as he found a small red ball that would fit easily through the neck of the flask, and small thin sheet of metal.

“Ok, so we’re going to say that this sink,” he gestured, “is our dimension, and the red ball is Lena – when we lock on to her.”

The fact that Winston had started using _when_ instead of _if_ again made Odette’s knees wobble with relief, but she stayed silent, letting the gorilla explain.

“Now, part of what we have to do is get Lena home without disrupting either our dimensional fabric or Slipstream’s native reality any further than has already occurred. So what we do,” the Gorilla placed ‘Lena’ in the flask, and then inverted the flask to set it on the steel plate, “is establish a bubble inside of her current space and time.”

Winston carefully lowered the assembly into the sink – no water entered the flask thanks to the metal plate. “So – now we’re surrounding her with our reality. Then, what we do next is to gently ‘open’ the seal keeping that bubble intact.” Carefully, Winston used one hand to steady the flask, while the other gently slid the plate out, allowing water to enter the flask, eventually lifting the ball that represented Lena to the top, surrounded by water. “Now we have her stabilized in our dimension, and all we have to do is gently collapse the rest of the bubble.” Lifting the flask away, ‘Lena’ settled to the floor of the sink basin, placidly sitting back where she was supposed to be.

Odette walked to the basin, her eyes locked on the red ball as she began to understand the idea, if not the complex physics Winston would use to execute it. “So you’re treating our reality like a liquid? It wants to fill the…void?”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Winston’s voice rang with satisfaction and enthusiasm, “it’s not so different from how we established a stabilizing field and containment chamber to reduce her chronal disassociation originally, until the anchor and accelerator could be developed. The theory, at least…is fairly sound. Practice will take some specialized equipment, though, and a _lot_ of power.”

“If there is anything I can do,” Odette’s eyes flashed with conviction, her voice filled with determination, “name it. Whatever you require.”

Winston’s eyes softened, and he gently folded the former Widowmaker into an unexpected hug. “Just keep doing what you’ve already done – and don’t let any of us give up on her.”

“Not even for a moment,” Odette promised, tears wicking into his fur, “ _Je promets."_


	3. Collect Call From Another You

Lena hated sleeping on the floor.

When Winston had made it clear that he didn’t want Odile to leave his sight, even when he’d determined to his satisfaction that Lena was really from a different parallel reality, she’d at least been able to search the ruins of the Watchpoint to find some mattresses.

Unfortunately, she quickly learned that where Odette tended to be a bit of a cuddler in bed, Odile tended to sprawl. She found herself waking up on the floor more often than not regardless of where she started.

Winston, on the other hand, didn’t sleep at all, as far as she could tell.

Every time Lena woke, he was working. Athena seemed to have been a casualty of the battles that had struck Gibraltar, but it turned out there was still power in the deep labs. Winston spent half his time working up models on the remaining computer systems and the rest going over increasingly complex maths at whiteboards. He’d repaired Lena’s accelerator as best as he could, using as few components from his old stores as necessary. She’d decided to avoid using it, leaving the device hanging on a small test rack.

This morning, he seemed to be staring at a rising and falling graph at his workstation, his fingers tapping against the desktop. “…it might just. Yes. Is _that_ what you’re doing? I think so…”

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Lena rose and walked to him, gently placing a hand on the scientist’s furry shoulder. “Who’s doing what, luv?”

Winston startled, eyes going wide and his hand instinctively reaching for something to protect himself with before he realized who had spoken to him. Lena had backed away reflexively, raising her hands to make it clear she wasn’t a threat. Winston blinked, then sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Sorry, Lena. I forget…I’ve been alone down here for a while.”

“Sh.” She did her best to wrap him in a hug, mostly just managing to hang off of his wide bicep. “Didn’t mean to startle you. With what I’ve learned about this place, I don’t blame you one bit.” She looked back to the computer display, changing the subject. “So what’s all this, then?”

Winston tapped a few keys, and a series of graphs appeared. One in particular had a rising, falling sine wave highlighted in gold. “It’s a signal of sorts. A rising and falling disturbance in time. I’m not completely certain, but I’m reasonably sure it’s an attempt to find you.”

“Winston – my Winston, I mean – is sending it out?” Lena’s eyes brightened, her heart lightening with the first flash of _hope_ she’d felt in weeks. “Do you think…are they ready to try bringing me back? To send the other me home?”

“If they’re not ready, they’re at least trying to let us know that they’re working on it – probably getting close to being able to make an attempt.” Winston’s voice was thoughtful as he pulled up another image – a representation of another signal wave, not quite identical, but very similar to the first. “This is – was – the temporal stabilization field we established to help pull you out of the slipstream originally, when you were in the containment chamber. Before we figured out how to make your anchor.”

“Looks similar to me, but you know this isn’t my expertise by a long shot.”

“I think,” Winston mused, “that they’re trying to create a similar field to help pull you back into the proper reality. Which…of course. _Of course!_ ” Suddenly energized, he began to type in new commands, a third graph appearing that brought the two waves together, then created a third in bright red that moved between the gaps between them.

“Establishing a localized field to help bring you back across – it’s probably going to be keyed to your accelerator – and if we do the same here to bring Slipstream back across on the same principles…brilliant!” The scientist smiled with genuine warmth. “I wish I could have a conversation with your Winston. I think we’d have a very interesting time.”

“I’ve no doubt,” Lena smiled, hugging him again, “so what now? What do we do? What can _I_ do?”

“The next step is to set up that matching field – I think I have enough left here to do that. From there…well, we start sending out a signal of our own to let them know we’re ready…and we cross our fingers.”

* * *

Slipstream was bored. Oh, god, but she was lonely, and she was _bored_.

The holding cell she was in barely had enough room for her to pace around, and there was only so much time she could spend trying to sleep (or trying to get herself off in the pathetic excuse for a shower) when Odette wasn’t there.

(She’d tried talk the alternate version of her swan into showering _with_ her, but that had been a non-starter. Frustrating as hell to be able to look but not touch, but she had to give Odette a grudging respect for her loyalty.)

They’d stopped trying to interrogate her after it had become clear that her reality’s version of Talon and theirs were too different to get much use from the intelligence. Ziegler and the Shambali ’bot stopped by periodically to keep talking to her about ways to ‘contain her urges’, but Slipstream did her best to let it go in one ear and out the other.

Containing her urges had gotten Lena Oxton killed. Slipstream would be damned if she repeated the mistake.

About the only things she had to look forward to apart from mealtimes and occasional conversations before bed with Odette were the carefully guarded and supervised visits she was given up to Winston’s lab, where he had been working to prepare for the attempt to send her home.

(God, when she got home, Odile had better have a mattress nearby, because she was going to tear every shred of clothing off her beautiful body and give her _such_ a fucking. Being gone for so long _hurt_ , and she needed to remind herself of who they were, of what they were to each other. To reinforce that the beautiful swan was _hers_ and that they were _alive_ again. She supposed it would technically be in enemy territory if she really did pop up around wherever Winston was keeping himself these days, but hell, that danger just made it exciting! She didn’t even mind if he decided to watch, as long as he didn’t try to join in. Even if he’d been human, Slipstream didn’t share. Ever.)

The only really disturbing part of the whole thing was occasionally noticing people she’d killed, up and walking around. The bubbly little Chinese woman occasionally popping in and out of the laboratory as she pursued her own research. Ana Amari, old Cap herself, staring at her like a vengeful ghost when they passed in a corridor. Torbjörn, helping Winston with some of the finer engineering as they rigged up the whatzit that would hopefully help swap the two dimensional refugees back where they belonged.

She didn’t feel guilty for what she had done – she’d done what was necessary to survive, and followed her orders – but it was just _strange_ to see the dead among the living. Her mind kept superimposing the images of their bloody corpses over the still living features, her imagination sometimes filling in lurid details of how they might have rotted over time.

Maybe she was grateful no one except Odette came down here after all.

* * *

After being told that things were ‘nearly ready’, Lena had decided to take a walk. Eventually she found herself on what used to be one of the Watchpoint’s satellite launch observation bunkers, her feet dangling over the heavy concrete roof. If she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the water and wind, she could almost forget where she was.

 _So much like home_.

If this failed…could she make a life here? Maybe help Winston continue clandestinely supporting the remains of Overwatch? Make good for some of the harm Slipstream had done?

She wanted to believe it would work. She really did. But part of her was scared that this was it, and she was stuck. If that turned out to be the case…well. She didn’t want to get too far along that path, but she certainly wasn’t going to walk into Talon and say “Hi, I’d like to ask about the pension plan?”

Though that scenario did leave the issue of what to do with Odile. Or more properly what Odile would do to _her_ , if she learned that her version of Lena could never return.

There was a rustle of footsteps and fabric next to her, and when Lena turned, the woman she’d just been thinking of was settling down beside her.

“This is a good spot. Peaceful. Relaxing – and with my rifle I could lock down the entire area from here.”

Lena rolled her eyes. “So glad you approve.”

The sniper shrugged. “Just an observation, _chérie_. You are worried about what will happen?”

“Is it that obvious?” Odile just shrugged, and Lena let out a sigh. “I guess I’m not so much worried about what will happen…I’m worried about the possibility that nothing will happen at all.”

“Ah.” Odile looked out to the sea, her golden eyes distant. “I know that fear. It is…very real. Winston seems convinced…but Overwatch has failed us before. Failed _her_ before.”

Lena sighed. “I believe in him, for what it’s worth.”

“So you say. I wish that I could.”

Lena reached out to place a hand on the pale woman’s shoulder. “Believe in me, then?”

Odile looked over, and the way her eyes softened – that smile in the moment before she closed her eyes and turned her head away – made Lena’s heart break all over again for what Talon had made of her. “I never stopped, _chérie_.”

“If…” Lena stopped, swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat, and began again. “If it doesn’t work. If I’m here for good. What then? You know I can’t go to Talon.”

Odile sighed, bringing a knee to her chest and wrapping her arms around it. “I do. I understand. I suppose, if they can no longer punish Slipstream for my actions, I could run. But I could never join Overwatch. They would never accept what I have become. Who I am.”

Lena let that be, and focused on the first part of what Odile’s answer. “But you _could_ leave Talon.”

“I don’t know. Perhaps. Yes.” Odile shivered. “If I did, and we were caught again…would they kill me? Or would I simply be _reconditioned_ into someone else again?”

Lena shook her head. “I’d die before I let that happen.”

Odile wouldn’t meet her eyes. “If you had the chance to act.”

Lena went quiet. She had to admit that Odile had a point – after all, she couldn’t imagine that the version of her that became Slipstream had felt any differently before Talon sank their hooks into them.

Odile finally broke the silence again. “Winston said he will be ready in six hours.”

Lena nodded. “Yeah. I’ll get dressed for company once he’s ready to go. He said the strength of the disruption carrier – whatever that means – should peak soon.”

“I want you to go back to your Odette. I want _my_ Slipstream back. But…” Long pale fingers reached out, stroking down Lena’s cheek. “If you remain here, I will be with you.”

Lena closed her eyes, and nodded. It wasn’t the world she wanted. But if she had to, it was a world she could try to make the best of.

Odile grew quiet again, and it was a long moment before she spoke “Lena...”

“Yeah?”

“I know…it will not be the same.” Odile’s voice took on a brittle edge, as if she was afraid to let the words fly from her lips. “But…can you …would you …be _her_ for me tonight?”

Lena blinked as she realized what she was being asked. “Ah…”

“I know we can’t be…what we both want. But…” Odile's voice was barely a whisper, her eyes haunted. “ _S’il te plait._ ”

Lena looked at the lost, vulnerable woman at the core of the assassin, and saw so much of her own lover in that uncertainty. Knew how it felt to need that most basic reassurance, and knew what her answer had to be. This was different than the flip, almost rote flirtations and suggestions the sniper had tossed off when she first arrived. This felt like the first time Odile had ever really asked because of _her_. 

As she reached out to draw Odile to her, a part of Lena wondered exactly what kind of flowers you purchased to say ‘I’m sorry I slept with your evil parallel dimension counterpart.’ 

* * *

Slipstream woke from another attempted nap at the sound of her cell door being opened. Sitting up, Odette was there, but she had no food with her. Not dressed for bed. So that meant…

“It is time. Are you ready?”

Standing, Slipstream cracked her neck and stretched, feeling the satisfying pops as she straightened. “I’ve been ready since the moment I woke up on that fucking street. No offense.”

Odette shrugged, and the gesture made Slipstream’s stomach flip all over again. _I could love you so easily. But if_ she _doesn’t make it back, would you even let me try?_

“I have the clothes you were wearing originally upstairs – mended as best as we could – and your other weapons and gear. We’ll let you get dressed before we attempt to send you back.”

Slipstream’s eyebrows rose. “You’ll trust me with pistols? With pulse bombs?”

The Frenchwoman shook her head slightly. “I trust that you want to go back more than you’d have any desire to kill us.”

Slipstream couldn’t help but laugh as she fell into step behind the taller woman. “It’s a fair cop.”

Odette paused, and Slipstream stopped just before she would have banged into her back. Before she could ask what was going on, the pale woman turned, looking down slightly to make eye contact. “That’s not entirely true. I do trust you. You’re not Lena. I don’t pretend that you are, but I know that away from Talon’s control…you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Slipstream shook her head. “I’d never hurt you, pet.” She couldn’t help but smirk. “Unless you asked nicely.”

Odette sighed. “I’m being serious, Slipstream.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Slipstream tried to force herself to say what she really meant, rather than hiding it behind a smirking joke. “I meant what I said, a while back. I’d never want to live a life without her – without _you_. If this goes tits up…assuming I’m not reduced to my component atoms…I don’t know. I’m not who you want…but I would try to be.”

Odette turned back with a humorless laugh. “I’d never try to force you to become her. I’m all too aware of what that can lead to…what it means to be made into someone else.”

“You _know_ what I’m trying to say,” Slipstream’s voice had a slightly pleading edge, “please tell me you do.”

Odette’s shoulders fell slightly. “Of course I do, _chérie._ But I want…”

Odette made a soft noise of surprise as Slipstream gently hugged her from behind. “Yeah. Me, too.” They remained in the embrace for a long moment before the shorter woman couldn’t stop herself from talking again. “God, _how_ do you both smell so good? Is that some kind of French assassin secret?”

Odette gently disengaged, turning back with a ghost of a smirk. “I’ll never tell.”

“Hah.” Shaking her head, Slipstream squared her shoulders and began to walk towards the elevator that would lead them back to the labs – and perhaps home. “Right. Best we get on with it.”


	4. Throw Wide The Broken Doors

Once is an accident.

Twice is a reproducible result.

Odette watched as Slipstream walked into Winston’s lab, her Talon uniform still a disconcerting and _wrong_ sight in this place, the red goggles pushed up on her forehead. “Alright, professor. Ready for the exam?”

Winston rolled his eyes. “Something like that. Everything is charged at my end, and by every indication, my counterpart seems to have gotten the message for what we’ll be trying.”

“Brilliant.” Walking to the stand where her accelerator waited, Slipstream slid her arms through the straps, then connected the fittings over her chest, a soft snapping sound announcing the device synchronizing to her anchor implant. Looking over her shoulder, she turned a hopeful eye to Odette. “Mind buckling me up, luv?”

Odette nodded, walking over and helping to tighten and secure the straps and buckles around Slipstream’s shoulders and thighs. Once she finished, the smaller woman slipped her goggles down, then took a deep breath. “Right. Don’t suppose I could get a kiss for luck?”

To the assassin’s surprise, Odette leaned in and delivered a gentle, if chaste, kiss. “ _Bonne chance._ ”

Before Slipstream could follow with any other remarks, Winston coughed. “If you’d come over here, please?”

Turning back to face the scientist, Slipstream tried to offer a brave smile. “Right. What do you need me to do?”

 

Lena was back in her full Tracer garb, checking over the fittings for her accelerator as Winston performed his last checks. “All right, big guy. I think I’m as ready as I can be.”

“Good. I’m tuning our signal to look for Slipstream’s accelerator and its resonant frequency…we’re nearly at peak strength. I believe they should be the same.” The scientist looked over to where Odile stood along the back wall of the lab, her bearing like a marble statue. “If this works, you’ll be able to handle your…partner?”

“ _Oui_. I’ll keep her under control.” Walking to Lena, the sniper bent slightly, brushing a kiss over her forehead. “Go find your Odette. Be her prince.”

Lena blushed, then hugged the Talon agent. “Think about some of what I said, yeah? You have a choice. You both do.”

Odile nodded, then moved back to where she’d be out of the way.

Winston gave the sniper a bit kinder look than he had when they’d first begun working on this. Lena didn’t think he liked Odile, necessarily, but he at least _understood_ her a bit more. Perhaps it could lead somewhere, eventually. “Lena, go ahead and stand at the center of the chamber, then bring your accelerator back online.”

 

Slipstream’s accelerator threw a couple of sparks as it came online, but the glowing disc of energy at the center stabilized, a soft hum rising from the device.

“It’s not perfect,” Winston admitted, “but it should help us get you home. That said…if you have a spare, I’d swap it out as soon as you can.”

“Right.” Slipstream moved to center of the lab, then looked up at the set of field projectors that hung from the ceiling. “So…I guess this is where I tell you to beam me up?”

Winston snorted. “Close enough. Once the field energizes and you feel them locking on to you, wait for my signal, then try to blink – and that should provide the trigger we need.”

Odette didn’t really have much of a religious bent these days, but she closed her eyes in a silent prayer.

 

The windowless makeshift chamber Winston had created from remnants of the old Chronal Containment equipment felt a bit claustrophobic to Lena, but there was no going back now. As the door closed and locked behind her, Lena turned to face the small camera set in the ceiling, and offered as cheerful a wave as she could manage. “I guess this is goodbye, then.”

“Godspeed, Lena.” Winston took a deep breath, then keyed in the activation sequence. “I hope you find your way.”

There was an electric buzzing sensation, and Lena could feel her hair standing on end, as if she’d gone to a science museum and put her hands on a giant Van de Graaff machine.

“I’m getting signal acquisition,” Winston announced, excitement in his voice, “96% of peak strength!”

 

“Field holding! 98% of peak strength!” Winston tapped a new sequence in. “Athena, status?”

“Signal acquisition confirmed. Zorth axis coordinates identified. Stabilization field charged.”

Slipstream’s body seemed to glow with the same energy that normally was channeled by her anchor and the accelerator, the cerulean light growing in intensity.

“99% of peak…”

 

“We’re at 100%!” Winston’s displays now showed that same melding of signals and sine waves he’d shown Lena the morning he’d interpreted the signals from the other reality, the words “ **CROSSRIP CONDITIONS OPTIMAL** ” flashing in bright red. “LENA! _NOW_!”

 

Slipstream closed her eyes.

Tracer whispered a prayer.

The Accelerators bent the fabric of time around them, and the ‘bubbles’ of reality that had been prepared to guide them home suddenly flared into brilliant life. Each woman suspended within them, seeing each other for the briefest of moments before the two realities that had been temporarily tied together separated once more with a gut-wrenching _zang_ of a sensation.

* * *

 

Slipstream’s eyes fluttered beneath her goggles, and after a moment, she opened her eyes to see she was lying on a floor surrounded by angular metal walls, and she could hear a deep voice – Winston? – yelling at someone.

“– until the field is completely dissipated!”

One of the walls – the door, apparently – was unbolted and wrenched open, and Slipstream winced at the sudden light that spilled into the darkened chamber. “Fucking _hell_ does it have to be so bright?”

Slim, strong arms were suddenly wrapping around her, pulling her up from the floor, squeezing her in a desperately tight embrace. “ _You_ ,” Odile breathed as she crushed Slipstream to her, “it’s you, you’re home, _you are here_ , _ma joile couer_.”

After nearly a month with no physical contact outside of her own fingers and the briefest of touches by Odette or Mercy’s medical examinations, Slipstream felt like she’d been slowly starved of oxygen. Odile was making up for that and then some. Reveling in the attentions until her head felt like it would explode, Slipstream desperately kissed her lover back, running her fingers over her lithe body, tangling a hand in her silky hair, thrilling to the way their bodies fit together, a torrent of words spilling out between each kiss.

“Love you, oh god _you,_ you beautiful swan, I love you, I need you, I missed you I _need you so much_.” As Odile steadied Slipstream on her feet and guided her into what she dimly realized must have been what was left of Winston’s old lab, she noticed an item on the floor and gasped with delight. “You brought a mattress! How did you know?”

Before Odile could answer or Slipstream could get much past loosening the taller woman’s belt in her ‘tear off every shred of Odile’s clothes’ plan, Winston cleared his throat from where he sat. “Odile. I expect you to uphold your end of the agreement.”

The sniper reluctantly released her lover, then nodded. “We will leave. We were never here. You were not involved, and nothing happened.”

Slipstream sighed and hung her head. “Are you SURE we can’t get, like, fifteen minutes in a closet first?”

Odile gently tapped her lover’s nose, a knowing smile on her face contrasted by the tears of relief that pooled in her eyes. “A hotel is not so far away, _chérie._ ”

Slipstream hung her head with a frustrated groan. “Ok, ok, _fine_ …”

As the two Talon agents left, Winston slumped at his desk. Oddly enough, he _did_ trust Odile to live up to her bargain – but the risk of Talon getting information from them was too great. He’d start looking into options for a new place to move his hideout and the remnants of his lab tomorrow. For tonight, though…

Winston thought of the brief glimpse he’d been given of his old friend, healed and whole, and mourned for Lena Oxton once again.

* * *

 

After one of the strangest months of her life, Lena Oxton was home, safe in the arms of her partner, her lover, her beautiful _cygne_. After Angela had finished checking her out, Lena had spent most of the first hour or two back in her native reality hugging every single member of Overwatch she could get her hands on – even a very startled Hanzo, Satya, and Fawkes.

Odette hadn’t talked much about Slipstream, but from what she’d learned from Odile she wasn’t surprised to know that they’d had to keep her doppelgänger in close confinement almost the entire time she’d ‘visited’. Lena didn’t offer much about Odile. There’d be time for that later. For now…it was just a relief to be with her love, and for the world to spin the right way around.

“Lena?” Odette’s voice was a soft murmur as they lay together in bed, quietly savoring each other’s presence.

Turning, Lena shifted under her lover’s arm so she could make eye contact before she answered. “Mm? What is it, luv?”

Odette’s eyes had an odd solemnity to them. “We never went to get that matching tattoo design.”

Lena’s brows knit with just a touch of confusion. “Oh. Yeah, I figured we’d probably get them done for our anniversary. Make a nice gesture and all that.”

Odette nodded, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “I’d like to go soon. It doesn’t have to be tomorrow, or anything like that, but…soon.”

“Sure,” Lena lifted her head, gently kissing a pale cheek, “soon is good.”

“There’s something else.” Odette’s eyes turned firm and determined – a fierce light that reminded Lena more than a bit of her counterpart. “I told you once I wasn’t sure I could ever be married again.”

Lena couldn’t help but blink in confusion, her exhausted brain trying to connect the two threads of conversation and failing. “…yes?”

Odette reached out, gently stroking the side of her lover’s face. “I changed my mind. After more than a month without you – of not being sure I would ever see the _real_ you again – I changed my mind.”

Lena pulled herself flush against her lover’s – her fiancée’s – body, letting her embrace answer the unspoken question.

“That does not have to be tomorrow, either,” Odette’s voice was choked with relief, finally letting some of the tears she’d held back for so long flow, “but…”

“Yeah,” Lena whispered, sliding back just far enough to brush Odette’s lips with her own, then gently kissing her love’s tears away, “soon. You never know…and I never want it to be too late. Do we want to tell the others?”

“Eventually,” Odette smiled, a flash of mischief in her eyes, “I suppose if we eloped they’d be very upset.”

Lena giggled, then collected another kiss before she answered in words. “I expect. Though if we want to just do something private I think they’ll all understand. I’m sure Zenny’d officiate.”

“I have no doubt.” Another kiss, deeper but still tender. “I think I will enjoy calling you my husband.”

Lena hummed contentedly. “If you like. I’m getting pretty excited about the idea of calling you my wife.”

_“J’taime, mon prince.”_

_“J’taime, ma cygne.”_


	5. Epilogue I: Resignations

_Six months after crossrip._

Slipstream giggled as the Talon agent who acted as their controller frantically pressed the buttons that were supposed to restrain and punish them. Despite the heavy switches clicking home with each depression, her anchor still worked, and Odile continued to calmly gun down the grunts who had attempted to “secure” them from the hallway.

“Sorry, seems something broke your killswitch on the anchor.” Twirling a pistol in one hand, she stalked forward as the frumpy little man began to sweat, his office chair backed up against the wall. “Shame!”

The grey faced man tried to sound severe, but it came out as a pathetic cry. “No, this…this is not possible! Agent Sipstream, you will _STAND DOWN_ _!_ ”

“Nah,” Slipstream shook her head with a smirk, “don’t think so. Matter of fact, we talked it over, and we thought it was high time my lovely and I tendered our resignations, if it’s all the same to you.”

The controller scoffed. “You can’t possibly expect Overwatch would take you back. Not after what you’ve done!”

Slipstream rolled her eyes. Idiot. “Who said anything about _going back?_ Plenty of work out there for a girl with a certain set of skills, you know. Pay’s pretty grand, too. Might just buy ourselves a nice little island or three.” She paused, then turned to call through the open doorway. “Hey, pet? Want to buy an island?”

Odile ejected the spent magazine from her rifle, slapped in a fresh one, and turned her head just enough to give her lover a look through the lenses of her recon visor. “A condo requires far less upkeep, _ma coeur_.”

“Ooo. Point. Maybe we can buy a condo _on_ an island. That’d be nice.” Odile shrugged and launched a fresh venom mine down the hallway, while Slipstream turned back to her captive audience with a smile. “So, where were we?”

The controller stared, slack jawed, before gathering himself back up, trying (and failing) to intimidate her again. “Even if you jammed the control signals somehow, Talon will find a way to activate both your Implants again!” As their former controller continued to rant, his face grew red as a beet, his voice rising to a higher pitch. “You will _disappear,_ Slipstream, _forever!_ And I promise that Odile will die in so much pain that she can’t even _scream!_ ”

“I thought you might mention that.” Slipstream holstered one pistol, then reached into a pocket on her tactical vest to remove a plastic baggie with a piece of electronics inside, crusted with dried blood.

The pain transmitting implant that, until recently, had been placed against Odile’s spinal cord.

Slipstream was cheerfully conversational as she tossed the bag into the dumbfounded controller’s lap. “Do you know what test pilots and surgeons have in common?” Before he could reply, she had blinked forward, placing her pistol’s barrel in the man’s gaping mouth as her voice dropped into a furious hiss with the answer to her own question: “ _Steady hands._ ”

His brains made a delightful splatter against the wall, a few flecks of blood flying back to splash across her goggles. Turning, Slipstream looked up to the camera she knew would be mounted in the ceiling. After all, there was no such thing as a trusted subordinate in Talon.

“Try to come after us and we’ll do you even worse. Try to hire us and we’ll consider it for twice whatever our normal fees end up being.” She holstered her pistol, then raised a hand in a jaunty wave. “Ta!”

When Slipstream reached the corridor, Odile had finished sweeping up the last of the security team. “Finished, _mon amour?_ ”

“I think they got our message,” Slipstream agreed before they exchanged a quick kiss, “and if not, well…we can always send a few more until they get the hint.”

The sniper nodded as they walked to a window she’d shot out earlier. Firing her grappling hook, she gave a satisfied nod as the claws bit into the facade of a neighboring building. “Shall we go?”

Slipstream laughed, wrapping herself securely around her lover’s waist. “Thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dogtit is amazing and did [fanart for Lena & Odette, and Odile & Slipstream!](http://dogtit.tumblr.com/post/155419508608/rising-swan-wizard-triumphant-fanart-of-an) Go check this out!


	6. Epilogue II: Vows

Jill was happy to close Practical Magic for an event like this.

Hana was thrilled when they asked her to play such an important role.

Of course Winston was the best man.

Sombra was amused by Odette’s request to be the maid of honor, but she didn’t say no.

Twenty odd people (including a Bastion unit and a gorilla) made for a fairly tight fit in the shop, but no one was complaining.

It wasn’t a conventional ceremony. That was fine. They weren’t conventional people.

There was cake and champagne before Hana and Jill began their work.

* * *

Wherever you go  
Through time and tide  
Space and storm  
In the sunlight or the stars  
I am with you.

You've brought me across an endless void  
Been my candle in the dark  
Made our home in your eyes  
Found our life in your heart.  
No matter when or where  
Near or far  
I am with you.

 

I give you a piece of me to carry with you  
So that wherever you go, I am there.

I share my heart with yours  
So that if you need me, I am there.

For all the time we have.

For whatever the future holds.

 

For every joy, every sadness.

Every triumph, every challenge.

I am with you.

Words from our hearts.  
Inked into our skin.  
Reminder and promise.  
I am with you.

Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art is a commissioned piece from [Jiinsy](https://jiinsy.tumblr.com/), please go check out her awesome work!
> 
> This isn't an ending, exactly, but I think it is a place where we'll be leaving them for a little while. I know that the Prince and her Swan (and their dark mirrors) will have more stories to be told, eventually, and I know they'll let me know when it's the right time to tell them. 
> 
> Thank you so much for coming along with me.


End file.
